


The Corsair, The Thief, The Archaeologist and Her Husband

by Isobel_Morgan



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isobel_Morgan/pseuds/Isobel_Morgan
Summary: Professor River Song is being a good girl for once. She has permission to explore the ruined city of Laniyah, and she's hoping the Doctor will join her there, but she runs into a very different Time Lord instead. A swashbuckling troublemaker may be a fitting substitute for an impossible husband, but investigating the mystery of the end of the Isenal civilisation soon takes a dark turn.- This is the other side of the story referred to in 'A Future In Ruins.'
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a riff on the film "The Cook, the Thief, his Wife and her Lover," but the storyline doesn't relate, I just thought it sounded good. (And Alex Kingston was in it)

It's strange, doing something the way you're supposed to.

I don't always break into places, but it's usually more fun that way, and to be filling out forms and complying with rules and regulations is almost, to turn a phrase, alien to me. But the Keepers of the Isenal city, Laniyah, are very strict, and I've heard too many bad things about what happens to people who try to sneak into the ruins without permission. And that's not mentioning those who are simply never heard of again, their fate as much a mystery as the ruins themselves.

While I could hop back in time and experience the Isenal culture while it's still alive and kicking, this time I'm here as an archaeology professor, and that means looking at the ruins while they're, well, ruins. I may have a reputation at Luna University for finding impossible things, but pristine artefacts and pictures of a living city when the Isenal culture ended 2000 years ago would be a step too far, even for me.

So… here I am.

In a queue.

Clutching my hard-won permit, I fill out more forms, sign disclaimers, allow myself to be frisked for contraband, and hold my breath as they check the vortex manipulator, hoping the perception filter on it is strong enough. I daren't be separated from it; they're _so_ hard to obtain and while I don't think anyone would be so foolhardy as to go around rifling through lockers in the Keepers' headquarters, it's still not a risk I want to take.

And hopefully my husband will be on time, so I won't actually need it.

Paperwork duly completed, we file through the checkpoint, and begin the introductory tour of Laniyah, which is mandatory for first-time visitors, and we are not to stray from the group. One of the disclaimers was concerning how the welfare of anyone who does wander off is not the responsibility of the Keepers, and also that while the guides know where the booby traps are, there's still the possibility of one springing unexpectedly. If they do, the Keepers can't be held responsible for that either.

Despite this, the applications for permits to explore the ruins continue to come in droves, and it was inevitable I would one day be among them. The Isenal culture is endlessly fascinating, and in my preparatory reading, I once again saw the fingerprints of my impossible man all over this city. But he's only half the reason I'm here. As a Professor, I'm allowed a certain amount of freedom in what I research and teach, and no-one else at Luna has the Isenal in their portfolio. It would be quite a feather in my cap if I could prove some of my theories correct, and I don't just mean getting the stuffed shirts to eat their words. Literally in one case. A stupid wager, really, but some people can provoke the most reckless part of me more than others.

As the tour begins, I try my best to pay attention, which isn't really in my nature either. But there's a difference between running into danger because it's more fun that way, (as I've been know to do), and carelessly falling into a trap that's impossible to get out of, which would be an embarrassing way to die, not to mention disappointing. Not really on brand, you might say.

I've been granted permission to record the ruins, so I send my little floating bubble off to run scans, take measurements and pictures while the tour guide wibbles on about the history of the Isenal, which I know backwards by now. The official history, anyway. There may be people on Rhyolae who know more than I do, I suppose, but I'm not going to let that hold me back.

Once the bubble returns, having helpfully also mapped out all the booby traps, I pay more attention to what the guide is saying. We've made our way through the main Confluence and are approaching the foot of the vast Elevation Temple.

"These carvings depict many of the deities of the Isenal, from the Rimishi period," he's saying. "This particular column concerns the building of the Elevation Temple, founding this part of the city, about seven thousand years ago."

This is one of the reasons I came. I send the bubble to record the carvings up close, every carving on every column so I can study them at my leisure back at Luna when I'm done here. But I don't interrupt the guide yet, not until we reach the plinth at the foot of the steps to the pyramid temple, the one that's carved with inscriptions on three sides but not the fourth, for reasons unknown.

"Do you know the date of this piece?" I ask, indicating the plinth. "When it was built, compared with the rest of the Temple?"

The guide looks startled at my question, seemingly used to giving their speech uninterrupted.

"Ah… it is a later addition, you are correct, Professor Song. I believe it was installed during the Phoespo dynasty…" They check their device. "Yes, records put it at only 5,000 years old."

"Can you be more precise?"

They give me a strange look.

"I like to be as accurate as possible, when I can," I reply with a smile, laying on the charm. It rarely fails.

Flustered, they scroll through the device.

"Uh, the consensus is that it was installed at the commencement of the rule of Tirayna, so presumably about 5,150 years ago."

"Thank you."

I wait for the group to begin to move on, then I duck out of sight behind a column, programme my vortex manipulator and vanish.

Of course, 5,150 years earlier, the city of Laniyah was not a ruin, nor was it empty.

The Elevation Temple being where all the rituals and festivals were held, it was never going to be completely unoccupied, but the Confluence should only be busy when the public attended said rituals, so I'm not likely to be caught now. Although the Keepers won't be formed for about three and a half thousand years, it's safe to assume that those who look after the Temple in this time period are no slouches in the security department either.

I look about. There are a few Temple guards patrolling, but no-one else, and there doesn't appear to be any attention currently directed at the newly constructed plinth, so I scurry across and, crouching down, beginning my work. As carving into stone by hand is extremely time-consuming, I already figured a way to use my sonic trowel to leave my little message before I set off.

It doesn't take too long, but Gallifreyan is annoyingly fiddly - honestly, who develops a written language using mostly circles? It's as if they wanted to make it as difficult as possible to deface ancient sites in order to leave messages for my husband. Confusing other archaeologists at the same time is a bonus.

Just as I'm finishing, a shadow falls over me. I'm caught!

"Hello Sweetie?" a male voice I don't recognise reads aloud, and I'm so surprised I almost fall over.

A hand catches my shoulder, stopping me from toppling, the other hand taking mine, helping me to rise.

"Of all the possibilities I considered when I followed your trail, finding you carving a message in circular Gallifreyan wasn't one of them."

His accent sounds Irish, but he's not likely to be from Earth, not if he can read what I've written and we both stare at each other in surprise. He's handsome, young looking - although it's unlikely he actually is young - and slim built, with artfully mussed dark hair, and there's a definite twinkle in his green eyes.

 _'This one's going to be trouble,'_ I think, but it appears he's thinking much the same about me as we look each other over.

I dressed practically today (for once), in nice sturdy khaki cargo trousers and jacket over a black vest, with stout footwear. In contrast, this man looks like he's just stepped off a pirate ship on 17th or 18th century Earth, in an open-necked black and red shirt with billowing sleeves, under a long waistcoat, belted with a scarlet sash, and tight - very tight - breeches and knee high leather boots, and his eyes are lined with black kohl.

A bell rings faintly in the back of my memory but I'm so distracted by meeting what has to be another Time Lord, I can't locate what memory that could be.

"You followed me?" I ask.

"From about, ooh, 5,150 years in the future? Tell me, how did you get a vortex manipulator past security?"

I smile.

"As if I'd give up all my secrets. How did you manage it? Or do you have a TARDIS?"

He smiles back.

"I take it that means you don't?"

"Sometimes. I borrow her when I need her. Otherwise…" I shrug. "You still haven't explained how you followed me? Or why?"

His eyes are looking into mine and they don't look away.

"I was having a little wander around the ruins when I tasted that little fizz of energy that a manipulator leaves behind. It's almost unique; not like a TARDIS, not quite teleport. So I went back to my ship, followed the trail, and then I found you here. Did you travel five thousand years in time just to leave a bit of graffiti?"

I put on my 'spoilers' face.

"A girl needs a hobby."

"And in circular Gallifreyan? But you're not from Gallifrey, are you?"

He takes my hand again, but his fingers slip to the inside of my wrist; he's trying to see if my pulse is singular or double. Thankfully he's polite enough not to try and read my mind, or at least not right away. I can usually tell when someone's trying to do that.

I deftly twist my hand away.

"Well, that accent certainly isn't," I reply, raising an eyebrow. He mirrors my expression, amused.

"You're the first Irish Time Lord I've met. Did you happen to be around Kildare when you regenerated, or did you choose the accent to go with the charm?"

He smirks, but doesn't disagree.

"So you're from Earth?"

"My parents were." I decide on a tiny bit of honesty. "I had a _very_ unconventional childhood though."

"So I'd imagine."

He glances away for a moment, the first time he's broken eye contact.

"Much as I'd love to continue this conversation, I think we're about to be escorted from the premises. May I suggest we return to your tour?"

"See you there."

I activate the 'return journey' programme on my vortex manipulator, vanishing before his startled eyes.

Immediately, I'm back where - and when - I was, and I hurry to catch up with the group, who are climbing the steps to the Temple. Glancing at the plinth, I see my Gallifreyan carving has survived and I smile. When the Doctor gets here, hopefully he'll see that, before he sees me. I wouldn't usually hide a message the way I have this one, but I doubt he'll miss it. I wonder exactly what point in his timeline he'll come from. We never meet in the right order, and I can't always say for sure when he'll be from.

My bubble returns to me again, having dutifully continued recording the ruins in my (very brief) absence. The group are now entering the Temple itself, which is only permitted with a guide; no solo exploration within these hallowed walls. So I pay attention on the tour, recording where I'm allowed to, and I'm generally a good girl until we leave the Temple and are allowed to start our own explorations, which is when I see him again.

Not the him I was expecting, but the Irish-accented Time Lord, the one dressed like a swashbuckling hero. He does not look pleased with me.

"Took the scenic route, did you?" I ask him.

"Not intentionally. The Isenal temple guardians aren't known for their sense of humour, are they?"

"Now, or five thousand years ago?" I smile.

"Either. Good job I'm well practised in getting out of tight spots."

"And getting into them, I imagine."

He tries not to smile back, but I can see that, no matter what trouble I dropped him in, it wasn't more than he could handle. Serves him right for following me, anyway. I want to find out more about him, though I feel a little twinge of - what is that? Disloyalty? It's not as if my husband has always been the only person in my life, though another Time Lord is different somehow.

"I came in through the front door this time - actually got permission to be here, which is probably a first - so I could look you up in reception. Professor River Song."

"That's me."

"Is that your real name?"

"That's a complicated question."

"Are sure you're not from Gallifrey? I'm usually pretty sure of a straightforward answer to a question like that with humans."

"I never said I was human."

The eyebrows raise.

"You said your parents were from Earth. That means human, doesn't it?"

Now it's my turn to smirk.

"I also said unconventional."

"Consider my interest piqued. So, what was the point of that little exercise?"

He indicates the inscription I left on the plinth, now weathered and worn.

"I'm supposed to be meeting-" I pause, not wanting to say too much "- a friend here."

"And the message was for them? Can't say I have many friends I'd go to that much trouble for. Not that I'd call 'Sweetie', anyway.'"

The bell that was ringing at the back of my head goes off again, annoying me. Do I know this man? Or of him, at least? You'd think I'd remember another Time Lord, especially one who looks like he just stepped off a pirate ship.

"Are they a Time Lord too, or are you just in the habit of using Gallifreyan to make private jokes?"

"He is, yes. He should be here by now."

This isn't the first time he's been 'late', but at least I'm not being sucked out of an airlock right now. There's time.

The man looks at me, eyes narrowing.

"I wonder if it's the same person as who I'm thinking of. He's fond of Earth. Sometimes, when we run into each other, he has a friend he travels with; a lot of them are from that planet."

My heartbeat speeds up, but outwardly I remain calm. There are a few Time Lords the Doctor told me about, old friends, and old enemies, sometimes one and the same. He once thought himself to be the very last one, and though that was never true, not really, there aren't many wandering loose around the Universe. The question is, who am I talking to now? And if I ask, will they tell me the truth?

"We haven't met before?" I ask. "With a different face, perhaps?"

"It's possible," he replies. "This is my sixth. I like to think I'm memorable-"

"This is my third," I cut him off and he stares at me.

"Unconventional doesn't quite cover it, does it? You're telling me you regenerate?"

"I've done I twice."

I don't mention that I can't anymore; maybe it was a mistake to mention regeneration.

He thinks this over.

"I did wonder if you could be me from the future," he says finally. "I was a woman last time, been thinking about what I'll get next time."

Now that is a revelation. I've only met one Time Lord who changed gender before, and while they're fond of disguising themselves, I don't think they'd choose to dress as a pirate. Plus they'd recognise me, although playing games is something they would definitely do.

"By choice?" I ask.

His smile is utterly devilish, and I just know there's going to be a whole lot more trouble to come.

"Who wouldn't choose to be a lady if they could? At least once."

I wonder whether I could have become male on regenerating, if I hadn't used up all my remaining regenerations on that impossible man of mine. What would he have thought if I had? That could've been fun. But, no. I like being a woman.

"Shame we didn't meet then."

He shrugs.

"That's still a possibility, isn't it? If we're both time travellers."

For a moment, we just stare at each other, the possibilities of this flirtation whizzing through my mind, presumably also through his.

But no. I came here for a number of reasons, and a new flirtation - or anything else - wasn't one of them.

"Who knows?" I say, tossing my bubble back into the air. It floats about five feet above head height, waiting for me to give it instruction.

"But I actually have work to do."

He looks up at it.

"That's a neat little gadget. Image recording?"

"Yes. Also 3D and infra-red scanning, whatever I might need to record a site like this, seeing as how I can't dig any of it up."

"But you can time travel. You just went back five thousand years, and all you did was carve a message. Why didn't you explore the city when it was living?"

"Because I'm an archaeologist. It'd be a bit suspect if I went back to Luna University with records on this-" I indicate the bubble "- of a civilisation that died two thousand years ago."

"Fair point."

"And besides," I ask. "You're here now too. You could have stayed 5000 years in the past if you wanted to explore the city before it became ruined."

"I wanted to be a tourist for a bit," he replies, easily. "I've had a few scrapes recently that were a bit too close for comfort, thought I'd have a little holiday. Though I'll probably pop back again later, see if I can find the answers to any questions. No-one seems to know for sure how the Isenal civilisation ended, for example."

He looks out across the city.

"What do you think?"

I don't want to admit that's one of the reasons I'm here. I want to see my husband, here in a city I know he had a part in building, and I was hoping he'd accompany me back in time for that very answer. Maybe Mum'll be with him. Dad too, if he currently exists during the point our timelines cross and isn't temporarily dead again.

But none of them have arrived, and I was very specific about the location coordinates; not just the city, but here, in the Confluence.

So… better get on.

"I'm going to explore," I tell my mystery companion. "I've promised my students the lecture of a lifetime when I get back."

The bubble has synced with my handheld device, which beeps to tell me where to find what I'm after, and I set off, toward the columns in the centre of the Confluence.

"D'you want company?" he asks, and for the first time, he's almost sincere. Still with a twinkle in the eye, but less flirtatious than before.

"If you can keep up, and don't ask annoying questions all the time," I flash back. "There's a reason I tend not to have assistants."

"Assistant?" he sounds offended, but he probably isn't being serious.

"Well, I'm a Professor of Archaeology. What are your qualifications?"

I find the column in question and begin to examine it.

"Officially, very few," he replies. "Don't have the patience, rarely have the inclination. I'm not one for sitting in a classroom."

There are many things I could say in reply, but my eye falls on a familiar box shape among the Isenal pictograms. Next to it are two figures.

_'Hello Mum. Hello my love.'_

My companion sees it too.

"Hmm. Thought as much. This is who you're waiting for?"

He taps the carving of the TARDIS.

"The Doctor?"

I say nothing, reading through the inscriptions as my device translates them. As I suspected, he was here when they built the temple. They refer to him and Mum as 'visitors' and added them to the pantheon. I wonder where Dad was, or if they just decided not to deify him.

Poor Rory; 2000 years as a plastic Centurion, frequently dead and he doesn't even get made into a god. But I'm still the daughter and wife of two minor Isenal deities. Wonder if that gets me any special privileges? Free cup of tea in the café? Money off in the gift shop?

The man is watching me closely.

"Well, you know my name," I say, as neutrally as I can. "You know who I was hoping to meet. Don't suppose you'll tell me your name?"

_'I swear, if he's some secret regeneration of the Doctor turned up in place of the one I wanted to see…'_

But he seems a little surprised.

"Oh, did I not introduce myself? How rude of me. Madam, I am the Corsair."

He performs a theatrical bow before me, extending a hand toward me as he straightens up. I ignore it. He already knows I think he has charm, I refuse to go along with such an obvious display. But inwardly I breathe a sigh of relief.

The Corsair. Of course. I don't know much about them, but while I'm sure they're as much trouble as they look, they don't have as bad a reputation as certain other rogue Time Lords.

_'Mentioning no names, Missy.'_

"And how do you know my husband?" I ask, still comparing the inscriptions and the translation, not looking at the Corsair. I can imagine his expression.

"Husband? The plot thickens."

"Really?"

"Is that how you can regenerate?"

"Certainly not! Have you ever heard of someone gaining the ability to regenerate through marriage?"

"Not yet, but I wouldn't be surprised."

There's a pause.

"Though I did know his first wife."

It takes a great deal of effort to compose my face not to show how that makes me feel. He wouldn't talk about her, or their children, not ever.

"You've known him a long time then."

"On and off. Haven't run into him for a while, though."

"He's a busy man."

"Hmm."

He looks back at the inscriptions.

"Looks like he was pretty busy here too, seven thousand years ago. Is he in the habit of being taken for a god by the locals?"

"Rarely on purpose, but yes."

"I tried that once, on Earth. Assyria. Got boring very quickly. The temple cat was friendly though, so I took her with me when I left."

"You stole a sacred cat from a temple?"

"I like cats. And I asked her first. She agreed that being worshipped had gotten dull and was more than happy to come with me."

I glance over at him.

"Wouldn't a parrot on the shoulder be more in keeping with the outfit?"

He laughs.

"Sometimes. I do love a parrot."

The Corsair looks across the Confluence once more.

"I'm sure I'm a poor substitute, but if your man's been held up, may I offer myself as companion for your exploration? I'm not usually one for guided tours, but it would be foolish to ignore the expertise of an archaeology professor, when I meet one. Can't go galloping around everywhere."

"You don't have a swash to buckle anywhere?"

He smiles again, and it's a more genuine smile, no longer flirting.

"Not for the moment."

It would be nice to have company. I still hold out hope that the Doctor is coming, but if he's going to be late, there's no point sitting around waiting.

"Well then. We have a city to explore."

"Grand."

The Corsair begins to stride off, purposefully, but I grab his arm, yanking him back as the bubble bleeps in alarm.

"A few ground rules first. Namely - I know where the booby traps are, and you, apparently, do not."

I show him the display on my device, with the flashing icons showing where the active traps are, then I pick up a loose stone and toss it at the space he was about to walk into. The air shimmers, and the stone vanishes.

"Hmm," is the Corsair's response. "Where did that go, I wonder?"

"I shudder to think. They're designed for trespassers, so I doubt it's anywhere nice, or particularly easy to get out of," I reply. "So… step where I step, and touch nothing."

He salutes me.

"Lead on, ma'am."

I honestly don't know whether that's charming or irritating. I suppose I'll decide as time goes on.

"And when I say, touch nothing, that means no 'souvenirs', no matter how tempting they are," I tell him.

"Are you saying that for my benefit or yours?" he asks, the grin back on his face.

"I'll have you know I'm an honest and respectable professor, thank you very much. I wouldn't dream of stealing from a historical site."

In my head, I hear my husband laugh and laugh, but I ignore it.

"Oh, but vandalism is fine?" He indicates behind us, to the plinth now sporting my inscription.

"Laniyah wasn't a historical site when I carved that," I point out. "And what I wrote is part of history now."

"Cheating a little bit, though?" he replies, amused.

"I said honest and respectable. Not boring."

"I should hope not. Anyway…"

He does a little bow, holding out an arm to usher me forward. I roll my eyes, and lead the way.

The Keepers have granted us access to almost the whole city. There are some other surviving ruins, smaller settlements further away, and of course the burial sites, but I was only given permission for this part. Even a time traveller with an augmented lifespan only has so much time for study; to try and map every last piece of the Isenal ruins would take months. Maybe I'll bring some students back another time, and do just that, but I'm not going to climb over fences or duck past any no entry signs. For now.

We don't see many other visitors either, and the Corsair proves to be as good company as he promised. Not just a charmer, he's had as interesting a life as I have, and he has even less regard for authority than me and mine, frequently commenting that he hasn't gone this long without breaking a rule in years.

I almost wish Amy were here, so she could do her occasional mothering and forbid me to spend time with such a disreputable person. Though I suspect she'd love him too. And my husband? The Corsair says they're friends, and the way he speaks of him, I believe it, but what would it be like to meet them both at the same time?

That's a _very_ distracting thought.

/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Doctor Who, River Song or the Corsair. 
> 
> Elements like the Corsair having been worshipped in Assyria, and liking cats and parrots, came from a post on Neil Gaiman's tumblr "Eleven Things You Probably Didn't Know About The Corsair."
> 
> (I had Damien Molony in mind for the Corsair when writing this, particularly the voice, though his eyes are hazel rather than green)


	2. Chapter 2

The days are long on the planet Rhyolae, and as evening draws in, we've explored, mapped, recorded and photographed almost everything I came to see. The Corsair is surprisingly helpful and only occasionally annoying, thankfully.

And it's clear that the Doctor's not coming. The message I sent was brief, I'll admit, but that's not been a problem before. So either the message never reached him, or he's in the sort of situation where he can't get away, even with time travel as an option.

I sigh. Oh well. At least this wasn't life or death important. I could explore the past here just as well on my own, but I don't have the heart right now.

I consider popping back to leave him another message, telling him what he missed. But then again I have a lecture to plan, and possibly another trip here with my students. Maybe I'll feel more like getting involved then.

Finishing up, I pocket the bubble, and start to programme the vortex manipulator. The Corsair sees what I'm doing.

"Off already?" he says. "I was about to offer you dinner. Or I could give you a lift, if you're finished here?"

"You're offering me the use of your TARDIS as an intergalactic taxi?"

He laughs.

"I'm off duty now, ma'am."

I should probably refuse, but I've only ever seen inside one TARDIS, and I'm curious. And, if it's more reliable than the elderly Type 40 I'm used to, then it's a better way to travel than my other options, so I accept.

My curiosity grows as he guides us out through the visitor centre and toward the bay, not far from the ruins.

To my astonishment, among the sleek modern sailboats of the rich, is what can only be described as a pirate ship. A wooden ship, with full rigging and sails.

"You _really_ commit to the aesthetic, don't you?" I remark and the Corsair just smiles that lovely smile. I imagine he's convinced many people to do a great many things with that smile.

"The 'bigger on the inside' surprise isn't quite so immediate when your TARDIS looks like this, though." I continue, allowing him to escort me across the gangplank and onto the deck.

I've never thought much about a TARDIS having an outside. With 'my' TARDIS, it's so small that's not an option, but with a whole ship, there's a lot of 'above deck' too. He goes over to the ship's wheel, which I realise is a disguised console - the console room and the deck are one and the same, so it isn't really 'outside' at all, it just appears that way.

"The chameleon circuit actually works on this ship," he comments, and I get the feeling he's trying to score points over my husband, which will not stand.

"Disguising your ship as something that's going to stand out in most of the universe is rather missing the point, though, isn't it?" I ask.

"I usually like to draw attention, yes," the Corsair says. "But there are times and places where this might actually fit in better than, say, a little blue box?"

"You'd be surprised," I reply, thinking of the carving on the column. How many places across the universe have something similar?

The air shimmers around us as we dematerialise - some sort of cloaking device? I can see out into space, and it's an odd feeling, both being outside and inside at the same time.

"We can have privacy, too," the Corsair says.

"That wasn't what I said. And to remind you, I'm a married woman."

"Disreputable as I am," he replies. "I wouldn't dream of stepping on a friend's toes in such a way."

There's a ping, a panel slides back from the side of the ship and from inside a small service lift, the Corsair extracts an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne, and two glasses. I roll my eyes.

"Of course not."

"I try to keep a full wine cellar," the Corsair says. "You never know when you might need to offer someone a drink."

He sets down the bucket, fills the glasses and offers me one.

"To new friends?"

"And to absent friends," I counter, but I take the glass all the same. I make a point to never turn down champagne, unless it's absolutely necessary.

"Unfortunately all the wine from the Magnate of Beyjir is long gone. Did the Doctor ever tell you about that?"

"I don't think so."

"Very unpleasant fellow, the Magnate. Ruled Beyjir with an iron fist, and completely appalling taste in décor."

I bite my tongue. 18th century pirate isn't to everyone's taste, but I've seen a lot worse.

"The Doctor and I decided it was time for a regime change. Once we'd started a few riots and liberated all the political prisoners, we made a start on doing the same to the Magnate's wine cellar, and I ended up with a dozen or so barrels. This was a few regenerations back; one of the rare occasions he was travelling alone, and he'd reverted to frock coats again."

"Before I knew him," I reply. I mean, that's mostly true. I've met all the Doctors, I think, but I know some better than others.

"You must've made quite the pair. I doubt anyone would stand a chance against two Time Lords, especially two so… unconventional."

We drink the champagne and watch the stars go by.

"Does your ship always look like this when you travel?" I ask. "Being on the deck of a sailing ship in space is quite something."

"Glad you like it. It's a bit style over substance sometimes. Space battles can be a lot more fun when she takes this shape, but sometimes I do need a bit of stealth. Though…" he gestures at the very front of this ship. "She has to look like this if you want to re-enact that scene from 'Titanic' at the bow."

I snort with laughter, almost spilling my champagne.

"Is that something you say to all your travelling companions? And is the reference to an old Earth film for my benefit?"

He laughs too.

"Well, not everyone would get that. And before you ask, no I'm not saying that to try and romance you. Not that I'm not tempted-" he gives me that smile again "-but husband aside, you remind me a little too much of myself, when I'm female."

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment."

He tops up my glass.

"Give it a go. I promise I won't try anything."

Well, you only live once. Sort of.

I go over to the very front of the deck and look out. There's no breeze like there would be at sea, but there is something, a sensation of travelling despite the shielding. I step up on the bow, one foot on the bowsprit, as if I were a pirate queen facing down the ocean.

It's _wonderful_.

I sip my champagne, the universe rushing past my face like the north wind and I give myself up to the moment. I'm glad the Corsair hasn't tried to be Leonardo DiCaprio to my Kate Winslet. If my husband can't be here for this, I'd rather not replace him.

I remain on the bow until we approach Earth's moon, Luna University glinting up ahead. He offers me his hand as I step down, composing myself.

"I don't tend to get poetic, but sailing through the universe on a ship like this is the sort of thing people write epics about," I admit.

He grins like a devil.

"Wouldn't be the first time I moved someone to write poetry. Did you ever meet Lord Byron?"

"Oh, you're _that_ Corsair? I suppose it wasn't terribly subtle."

"More inspiration than biography. He changed more than a few details, took some rather large liberties. Officially, Jean Lafitte gets the inspiration for Conrad, although I don't think George ever met him. And I've never been a stern teetotaller, so there's more than a bit of poetic licence there."

"Did you take him sailing?" I ask, raising my brows.

"Not in the TARDIS, but yes. He was on his Grand Tour of Europe, I was doing something similar around the galaxy, and we, shall we say, found a kindred spirit in each other."

I think over what I know of Lord Byron, and the concept of the 'Byronic hero', wonder how many of those traits are shared by the man in front of me. Not to mention Byron's reputation as a heart-breaker, of all genders.

"I'm sure you did."

"This was before he got caught up in all that gossip and scandal with his sister, and stealing other people's wives -"

"Something you would _never_ do," I interrupt.

He just smiles.

"Before he married Annabella, before he was properly famous even."

"I've not met Byron, no," I answer his earlier question. "I think I've had enough of 'mad, bad and dangerous to know' for the time being. They can be _so_ exhausting."

"Agreed. I was getting myself caught up in all sorts of wars back then, I try not to do that anymore."

I say nothing. I don't know if he was ever involved in the Time War (unless that hasn't happened yet for him?). But I'm not going to ask, any more than I'd ask whether Conrad, the titular corsair of the poem, having a wife, Medora, who dies, is based on reality or if it was one of the details Lord Byron changed.

"Anyway!" he says, operating the console. "Here we are. Luna University. Do you have allocated parking?"

"For a pirate sailing ship?" I ask. "Though with my reputation on campus, that wouldn't surprise a soul."

"I'm not a pirate," he corrects me. "Not even a privateer, not right now anyway. I'm a… free agent."

"Aren't we all?"

"Well, Professor Song. This has been fun. Maybe we'll see each other again sometime?"

"Perhaps. Thank you for the lift. And the champagne. And the company."

The ship materialises outside the university building, the chameleon circuit kicking in, changing the shape of his TARDIS to blend in with the other transports. Well, trying to fit a sailing ship into a landing space would be a bit more tricky.

"Goodbye."

He kisses my hand, and I disembark.

* * *

It takes me a few weeks to go through all my recordings and notes, and to prepare my lecture. I'm not the most reliable of Professors, so I don't have a lot of student supervision to do, but I am known for my interesting lectures.

The hall is full; a number of staff have been taking bets on the outcome of this lecture, remember. But I never disappoint. I put a lot of effort into this, and I didn't even cheat. Yes, I hopped back in time, but I didn't look around so for once, this is actually about archaeology.

So you can understand my annoyance when, just as I finish, a familiar Irish lilt comes out of the darkness.

"And what about the end of the Isenal? What are your theories on how that came about, Professor?"

He wasn't here when the lights went down, I know he wasn't. A man dressed as a pirate - sorry, a _free agent_ \- would have stuck out a bit, even in an archaeology department.

I smile to cover my irritation.

"That's a question for another lecture. We could be here all night trying to answer that."

"Ten words or less?" he asks, and the audience laugh, charmed by him even when they can't see him.

I count off on my fingers.

"A mystery I will one day get around to solving."

The audience laugh again, and before my heckler can get another word in, I invite the audience to ask me any other questions, switching on the house lights.

When the Q and A draws to a close and people start to get up, the rest of my department gather around me, congratulating me (some through their teeth) and asking questions about my plans for future trips to Rhyolae and so on. Eventually, everything winds down, and as they leave, I can confront the annoying gatecrasher, especially annoying because he still isn't the Doctor.

He's the only one to remain seated, right in the middle of the auditorium, eating popcorn. He actually brought popcorn to my lecture. I suppose I should be flattered he went to the effort.

"Corsair."

"Professor."

"I didn't expect to see you at my lecture."

He shrugs.

"Could've used more spaceships and sword fights, if you ask me."

"Then it's a good job I didn't."

"On that note…"

He swings his booted feet down from the chair in front of him, and stands, stretching. He's dressed much the same as before, although this time the shirt is white. Once again, those brilliant green eyes are lined in black kohl, drawing more attention to them and I'm a little perturbed at realising how much I like that.

I myself am wearing an almost sensible outfit, by my standards, of a tailored white blouse and red trousers, and though my lipstick and shoes are red to match, the heels aren't really high enough to even count.

"Shall we find out?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What happened to the Isenal. I've been a little busy recently, but the question's been nagging at me, and I thought if I was going to try and find out, I should bring along my expert friend?"

I pretend to consider it, as if I hadn't been planning to do the same myself. Again, I'd rather do this with the Doctor, but he's remaining stubbornly out of contact, so…

"We're friends, now?"

"I hope so. D'you want me to get down on my knees and make a formal proposal?"

I smile.

"You wouldn't be the first."

"I'm sure. So, will you run away with me, Professor Song? For a small adventure, at least. Of course, we may get there to find it crawling with time travellers, all with the same intent, or we may be the first. The only."

I sigh, theatrically.

"I suppose so. Let me get my bag."

* * *

The semi-opaque shielding around the TARDIS clears as we rematerialise back on Rhyolae, in the city of Laniyah, 2000 years before our last visit, back in the time of the Isenal. I didn't look around properly when I popped back before, and I smile as the city comes to life around us.

The Corsair was right about his ship fitting in better in its current shape than 'my' TARDIS would as we're surrounded by wooden sailing boats. The designs aren't all that different from those on Earth, although Isenal ships are far more colourful, it would appear.

It's such a beautiful city. As a ruin, it's quiet and has this mysterious aura to it. Despite the efforts of the Keepers to maintain it, there is constant encroachment by the jungle that grew up around the city after the end of the Isenal culture - we were warned to avoid any flowering creepers, as there has been known to be outbreaks of Venandi blooms around the city, and they will occasionally eat careless tourists. But now, the jungle is kept back much further, the settlement spreading out from the waterside up into the hills beyond, with the vast stepped temple dominating the city.

I'm reminded of ancient sites in the Americas, back on Earth, of Chichen Itza and Machu Picchu, of Caracol and Copan, of Teotihuacan and Tikal and Tiwanaku. But at the same time, this is nothing like them, as all cities are unique.

The Isenal were known to trade far and wide, right from their earliest days, so the city was constantly growing and changing, diverse and thriving. The orange sun is high in the lilac sky, and the air is filled with the cries of alien (well, alien to me) birds, circling over the harbour.

For a while, I just stand on the deck and watch the city, the Corsair beside me.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?" I say. "One of the most vibrant cities I've ever seen."

"I don't usually like to stand still for long," he says. "But yes. It's good to get a new perspective, every now and then."

And then we go and explore, wandering the cobbled paths through the narrowing streets, crammed with shops, businesses and houses. It's handy having the telepathic translation to hand, which I miss when I don't have a TARDIS, but I soon find that travelling with the Corsair is not like travelling with the Doctor. Both like to get into trouble, but the Corsair has lulled me into a false sense of security with his good behaviour at the ruins, and immediately puts me to shame.

I'm no shrinking violet, and I will admit to causing my fair share of trouble, but I don't usually leap head-first into tavern brawls. He's already chased down a cut-purse, which is sometimes something the Doctor might do (or I might, if I felt so inclined) and then bested them in a sword fight so that he could return the stolen goods to their owner, which neither my husband nor I are likely to do.

Sword fighting is just showing off, in my opinion, especially if you come from a time period where guns exist, or handy little gadgets to avoid fights in the first place. Although the hip holster the Corsair carries being bigger on the inside, concealing the sword until he drew it, is mildly impressive.

Then he buys flowers from a stall and gives them out to anyone he thinks is pretty, or needs cheering up. And when, as we pass a tavern and a fight spills out into the street, he joins in, I just roll my eyes and leave him to it. To each their own, I suppose.

I head toward the Elevation temple, and as I reach the Confluence, I can see a festival is taking place. Perfect. I throw myself into the middle of the festival the way that the Corsair threw himself into a fight, and we probably both have as much fun as the other that day, although I have fewer bruises when we meet again in the evening.

As the sun begins to set, I'm enjoying a drink outside a quieter, less brawl-y tavern, in the shade of a twisting tree. I'm wearing the new dress I bought in the market, a handkerchief style in red and gold, along with a new pair of flat sandals, similar to what many of the locals are wearing, and there are flowers in my hair from the festival, which seems to be both celebrating fertility and a change in the seasons, as the summer ends.

The Corsair throws himself down in the other chair at my table, bedecked with flower garlands.

"Good day?" I ask, refusing to acknowledge the state of him. There are rips in his shirt and he has a black eye, but he's grinning from ear to ear.

"Grand. Yourself?"

"Tolerable."

I sip my drink. He doesn't need to know the details of my day, but I've considerably added to the collection of marriage proposals made to me today, and that was before I bought the dress. He puts his sword down on the table, and I notice it's a new one, in the Isenal style; he must've bought (or stolen) it here, today.

"Solved the mystery of the end of this society yet?"

I raise my eyebrows.

"Not while it's still thriving, no. What year did you bring us to, exactly?"

He shrugs.

"Excuse me a moment."

He gets up, removing the garlands from around his neck and dumping them on the table, then jogs over to the fountain in the middle of the square and sticks his head under the water. The fountain is shaped like the sea goddess Afaelia, pouring water from the carrier she holds into the basin below, and the plume cascading down soaks him completely, his white shirt turning see-through and clinging, which I have to assume was his intent.

He shakes himself like a dog before he comes back, still grinning, dripping water everywhere, and asks the waitress to bring him wine. I continue to sip my cocktail, pretending to ignore him. Through his soaked shirt, I can see a tattoo on the left side of his chest, above one of his hearts; an Ouroboros symbol, the snake devouring its own tail, symbolising eternity. Interesting.

I'm glad we already had the discussion about not going beyond flirting, otherwise this could get messy. The Doctor may expect me to flirt my way around the universe, but we're married, and unlike most of my marriages, that means something, especially when I'm accompanying another Time Lord.

"This is the year the civilisation ends, according to records from the rest of Rhyolae," the Corsair says, as if there'd been no interruption. "The exact date is unknown, only that all trade ships and communications stopped coming back from the end of this season."

"So it's probably imminent, whatever it is," I reply. Looking around the bustling square, there is no indication of any impending disaster.

"We can probably rule out anything slow, like crop failure or rivers drying up," I think aloud. "And the port is bringing in everything a society needs to thrive. Unless that's the cause."

The Corsair takes the jug of wine brought by the waitress, quaffing directly from it. Again, I roll my eyes, but the waitress smiles, seemingly amused. He gives her a flower from one of the garlands, which she puts in the neck of her blouse before she goes back to work.

"Something brought in from elsewhere? Like a plague?" he asks.

I nod, my expression momentarily grim.

"But that's unlikely. There are always some survivors, even if they managed to seal the entire city so thoroughly that no word ever got out. And it would have to be incredibly fast-spreading to wipe out a city this size."

"Come on, then. Tell me your theories."

"Vanishing civilisations are surprisingly common," I tell him, thinking of my experience across multiple planets. "Isolated communities could be through illness, wars, natural disaster - there is a faultline on this continent…"

"But a people as connected as this," the Corsair agrees. "There'd be records. Or at least some idea of what happened. So something swift."

We both fall silent for a moment, and I assume he's thinking the same as I am; that everyone here in the beautiful, vibrant city is going to die soon. But at the same time, when you're a time traveller, you get used to the idea that everyone you meet is going to be dead as soon as you move on, so to speak. And as an archaeologist, I'm used to extinct civilisations, and tombs. Excavation is one way to bring them back to life, and when I return to the future, I'll bring these memories with me. I won't technically be able to share them, but I'm sure I can find a way to add what I experience here to my lectures. Maybe I'll write a book.

"But it's unlikely to be overnight," the Corsair continues, his attention still on the pretty waitress, Amalinda. She has light brown skin, long red hair and even longer legs, half-hidden by her flowing skirt; I can see how she caught his eye, but not really my type.

"There's time to explore, I think?"

"The festival runs for another few days," I point out. "If all you're looking for is a party, there'll be plenty of opportunity. My intention is to see as much of Laniyah as I can, gather clues whenever the opportunity presents itself."

"Likewise."

The Corsair pours out a cup of wine, the grin still firmly on his face. I indicate the developing bruise around his eye.

"I'm sure you will."

"Souvenirs," he shrugs. "They're what make a trip memorable. Are you planning on picking up any yourself?"

"Black eyes? No. Souvenirs, perhaps, now we're no longer at a protected historical site."

I look at the glass I'm drinking from. It isn't remotely fancy or valuable now, but in two thousand years time, it could be a priceless artefact from a vanished civilisation. It's all about perspective.

"Although I'd have to be careful with anything I brought back," I continue. "Anything Isenal is heavily embargoed, and while I wouldn't say I'm one to avoid trouble, I've had enough of prison."

He looks me over anew.

"I've seen the inside of a few prisons myself. Never for too long, mind."

I signal to Amalinda to bring me another drink. I don't want to talk about Stormcage, or why I was there.

"Oh, I know how to break out of - and into - prisons. But the Keepers are another level of enforcement."

"You could bury anything you pick up here, and then dig it up two thousand years from now," he suggests.

"Yes, I'd thought of that. But I still wouldn't be allowed to take finds away with me, legally, and I don't want people thinking I go around looting protected sites. Even a reputation like mine has limits."

"You don't seem like someone who plays by the rules," he points out.

"Not usually," I smile. "But that doesn't mean I don't respect anything. The Keepers have protected this city for over fifteen hundred years, after the Isenal fell."

"Hmm."

He drains his cup, refills it.

"Do you think the Keepers know how the civilisation ended?"

"It's possible."

Amalinda brings me another cocktail, smiling at the both of us.

"Are you here for the festival?"

"In a manner of speaking," the Corsair replies. "Can you recommend anything we shouldn't miss?"

"There's a procession at noon tomorrow, that's always worth seeing. Then the fortune tellers will make their predictions for the future, as the season turns. Is that something you'd be interested in?"

"The future? I have my own way of seeing what's coming up ahead," he says and I'm surprised he doesn't wink at the end of that sentence. I try not to sigh aloud. So obvious.

"I'm sure you do," she replies, blithe. "If you've got time to go up to the hills, the observatory opened recently. It should be a clear night, if you've a mind for stargazing. And the explorers have come back from the underground caves with their finds."

I thank her, and she goes off again.

"I forget the Isenal were as advanced as this," the Corsair muses. "When you only see ruins… pre-industrial, but they're building telescopes for astronomy, and what I've seen of their mathematics, they were much further along than other civilisations tend to be at this point."

"When were you discussing maths with the locals?" I ask. "Between punches?"

He laughs.

"I didn't spend all day brawling. Though that has been known."

"So the question is," I say. "To stay here and enjoy the party, or see what their observatory is like?"

"Isn't that like a time traveller going to a fortune teller?" he replies. "Why look at the stars through a telescope when you can travel among them?"

"Not everyone has a TARDIS," I point out. "And it's a good way to see things the way the locals do."

"The observatory it is then. And if we miss anything good at the party, we could skip back in time and do both?"

I laugh.

"You've sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"I said I wouldn't dream of stepping on a friend's toes. I meant that."

With Amalinda returning his smiles the way she is, he won't have to.

"A platonic expedition to the observatory then," I say. "We can probably discount a meteor strike as what ends the Isenal civilisation, but it wouldn't hurt to check. There's always the possibility of an alien attack, or invasion."

"D'you think that's likely?"

"It happens more than I'd like."

"Hmm."

He finishes the wine.

"I like a good fight, but I don't get involved in wars, if I can help it."

Again, I say nothing. I thought about researching him, to see what he's known to have done, and if I'd seen the Doctor, maybe he could have told me. But I can't bring myself to ask. I doubt he'd tell me, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Again, I don't own Doctor Who, River Song or the Corsair.  
> The Corsair's TARDIS looking like a pirate ship, and their smile making people want to get into trouble with them came from the previously mentioned post on Neil Gaiman's tumblr "Eleven Things You Probably Didn't Know About The Corsair."
> 
> Their holster being dimensionally transcendental comes from Jody Houser's comic featuring the (female) Corsair.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun has fully set, so we follow the path lit by torches through the city and up into the hills, to the observatory. My new dress and sandals aren't the best choice for hiking, but it's not like I haven't done more difficult things in less practical clothes.

There's a small crowd at the new observatory. I have a look through their telescope, satisfying myself that there's no incoming meteorite, or alien armada hanging in the sky (although I don't entirely discount the notion, because I know full well that cloaking technology is a thing). Outside afterwards, I strike up a conversation with an enthusiastic young couple, newlyweds on their honeymoon.

They both have the same light brown skin as Amalinda, as do the majority of the Isenal I've seen; I'm very pale by comparison, as is the Corsair, but this is a port city, and strangers are common here. Rayna - fair haired, tall and willowy- is an engineer who builds aquaducts and Lilia - petite, athletic, dark hair cropped short - has just completed her basic training for the Isenal army, and they plan to move into married quarters at the local barracks when their honeymoon is over.

Before coming here to look up to the stars, they spent the day listening to talks being given by a group of underground explorers who've just come back from an expedition through some local caves. At first, I'm just enjoying their excitement, but then they say something that catches my attention.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"The explorers found all these metal objects. They said they'd fallen through a crack in the air, inside in one of the caves," Rayna repeats.

"A crack? What sort of crack?"

Rayna looks at her wife, then back to me.

"Just a crack. They didn't say much about it; they were more interested in the objects they found. They look like nothing anyone has seen before."

Alarms are blaring in my head. I seek out the Corsair and tell him what the couple told me. He considers this, as serious as I am.

"And you're thinking, what? A temporal rift?"

"Fits the description, doesn't it? And if some of the objects they found came through the rift, then that could be what ends everything?"

As subtly as I can, I take out my equipment and begin scanning the local area. I daren't use the recording bubble; too many questions would be asked if I openly used such advanced technology.

I frown at the results.

"This isn't making a lot of sense. There's something, but it's not like any rift I recognise. The one on Earth was semi-controlled though…"

"Most of the ones I'm aware of are either monitored or closed," the Corsair replies.

He sighs.

"So much for the party. No-one would ever call me a responsible person, but I can't just leave something like that."

I smile.

"Sounds like my husband's been a good influence on you."

"And you're not enough of a bad influence on him."

"Oh, that I am sure of."

We hurry back down the hill, following the directions Rayna and Lilia gave us, towards the cave system the explorers recently emerged from. There are no barriers or guards to stop us heading in too, though I do wonder whether we should've picked up some more equipment, or I should've at least gotten changed, but nevermind. At least I'm not wearing heels this time.

Fortunately, the caves are fairly easy to access. We walk in at ground level, and follow the slope down. Once we're alone, I take out my bubble and use it to light the caves as we proceed. It's not too steep a descent, though the ceiling dips regularly, and we have to stoop down, crawling in some places. I distract myself from discomfort by gently teasing the Corsair about his lack of sonic technology.

"You carry a sword, for goodness sake! How is that more useful than a scanner, or a screwdriver?"

Even in the dim light, I see him grin.

"I'm sure there's many a situation where you said the opposite to the Doctor. What use would a screwdriver be in a sword fight?"

"Maybe you don't know my husband as well as I do," I counter but then we both feel the change in energy up ahead and we stop still.

My scanner beeps to let me know it's locked onto the energy signature of a rift in space/time, but I don't need to look at it, I already know.

The Corsair frowns, shifting uncomfortably.

"It's fluctuating," he says. "I think that's why I didn't notice it before. My ship should've picked it up as soon as we arrived."

"Was there any sign of it in the future?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

"Nothing. I wouldn't have been able to find the trace from your vortex manipulator if there was an active rift. And that's unusual in itself; normally a rift leaves some kind of scar in every time period."

Squeezing through a narrow aperture, we find ourselves in a vast cavern, containing a shallow pool. Above the pool, as if hanging in the air, is the rift. It reminds me of the cracks that, to a certain extent, I owe my existence to.

If there hadn't been a crack in my mother's bedroom wall when she was a child, the TARDIS might not have been drawn there and she would never have met the Doctor. She would have still met Dad, so I might have been born, but I wouldn't be me. Without exposure to the time vortex, Melody Pond would have been just an ordinary human child, and River Song would never have come to be. No regenerations, nothing.

Sometimes I wonder what that would've been like.

I send the bubble closer, but warily. The readings from my scanner start to oscillate.

"I think it's untethered," I say. "This end is fixed, but it's moving between multiple points in space and time at the other end. That might be why we couldn't detect it; it only registers as a temporal rift when it makes a connection on the other side?"

The Corsair looks like whatever it is, it's causing him physical pain. I'm not enjoying this very much myself; sensitivity to the temporal vortex isn't always a good thing.

"Something like that. But whatever it is, it shouldn't be left open. Give me your scanner."

He's very different when faced with this sort of problem. The swashbuckling swagger is gone. He's almost serious.

He moves toward the rift, wading into the pool.

"Is it a good idea to get that near?" I ask.

"Well, no."

"Didn't think so. Can we close it?"

"I don't know. This isn't the kind of crack that'll close itself, if you mess about with it. It'll take a lot of power to force it shut. I have explosives in my TARDIS-"

"Of course you do."

That gets a little smile.

"But the amount of explosives needed to close a rift'd bring the whole hill above us down, at least. Probably destroy the city in the backblast, and not in a way that'll leave it standing for another two thousand years."

"Well, at least we aren't the cause of the end of the Isenal," I remark dryly, but this time the Corsair doesn't smile.

"We might not, but this could well be. I can't get a clear reading for what's on the other side, not even now it's connected. It's still unstable."

I absorb this.

"Could be anything then."

"You were the one who suggested an alien attack, or invasion."

"Seems more likely now I'm looking at this," I reply, serious.

I wish the Doctor was here. I don't know this man, don't know if I can rely on him. He may be a Time Lord, but his reputation isn't one where just telling invaders his name could make them turn tail and run.

I pull myself together. I can cope, I'm sure. I've dealt with worse. I don't carry guns as much now as I used to, but I'm sure the Corsair has weapons in his TARDIS as well as explosives, which is something I can't say for my husband.

"I'm going back to the TARDIS," he says, finally. "See what equipment I can find to figure out who or what is on the other end, and if I can get it to attach to something harmless."

"I think we both know that won't work," I say quietly. "The Isenal civilisation ends this year, this season. Perhaps today."

"I know. Are you saying you want to walk away and just let that happen?"

He wades back out of the water, handing me back my scanner.

"Of course not! But whatever we do, we might have to let history take place. Surely something as momentous as this is a fixed point?"

We head back out through the caves.

"Who knows? I've never cared too much about things like that."

I'm torn. I want to try and save the Isenal, much as I know I shouldn't interfere. I may come across as amoral to some, and while I've never shied away from killing when it felt necessary and there are those I couldn't give two hoots if they live or die… letting a civilisation die is the other end of the scale.

"And what if we succeed?" I ask. "The Isenal don't die out, then what would the consequences be?"

He raises his eyebrows, but his expression is otherwise controlled, giving nothing away.

"How could letting them live be worse than letting them die?"

"I don't want them to die, of course I don't. But messing with time like that?"

He points to himself.

"Time Lord. Whole lot more experience with time than anyone else here."

"Then tell me!" I snap, losing my temper. "From your lofty perch of accumulated wisdom, from your years at the Time Lord Academy. What would happen?"

"Why stick around to find out? We could be out of here before anything changes."

"I don't believe you. For all your swagger and devil-may-care, you can't really believe we could change something so huge and not make everything worse? It did when I tried."

I bite my tongue. The whole what-really-happened-what-was-undone business after Lake Silencio is still confusing and I lived it.

The Corsair stops.

"Is that what the Doctor's like now? All care and consequences?"

I sigh.

"Depends on what day it is."

"So you tried to change something once, something big? And there were consequences?"

"Universal consequences. Time splintered, the whole of reality nearly fell apart."

"And you think saving a city will do that?"

"It's not just this city that falls though," I insist. "The whole civilisation vanishes. Only this city and its surrounding remains standing to show the Isenal were ever here. This isn't stepping on a butterfly. The entire planet will be affected, its whole future. _Think_ about it, Corsair. You saw Rhyolae two thousand years from now. How different would it be? All these people living and having descendants - what differences they would make."

Turns out I do care about consequences. Even without my husband here to rein me in. Or maybe I always cared, and I just like pushing against his boundaries to see what will happen.

The Corsair starts walking again.

"Differences, yes. Not necessarily for the worse."

"I know, but can you really make that call? Knowing how many people in the future could cease to exist because of this?"

"And all the people here? That nice young couple at the observatory who told you about the rift in the first place? The waitress, Amalinda? The man who gave me a black eye? They should all die for a future that isn't set in stone?"

"I'll give you another black eye if you want," I throw back, anger rising. "Of course I don't want them to die. But they did, thousands of years before we set first foot on the planet. And if we hadn't come back here, what then?"

"So what's the point of time travel, to you?" he shouts. "Sight seeing? Take a few pictures, dig up a few fossils, and back to the university? Don't you want to make a difference?"

I laugh out loud, despite my anger.

"You don't know me at all, do you?"

"And you don't know me," the Corsair says, strangely quiet.

"Fine!" I throw up my hands. "I'm going to find the explorers. Lilia and Rayna said the objects found in the caves were brought back to the city. I need to know what they found."

"You do that."

As we leave the caves, we split up. It's still night, and the festival has mostly wound down now. It's only when I'm out in the fresh air that I realise how exhausted I am. I won't find the explorers now (or if I do, they probably won't be interested in talking shop), so I take the opportunity to have a quick nap in a sheltered spot in the corner of a public garden. The nights are warm still, and it's very pleasant to curl up under the stars, just for a few hours.

On waking, I go back to the market, which is already buzzing, with the intention of getting directions to track down the explorers. I bump into Rayna again, who's now wearing a dress like mine, coloured the same lilac as the sky. I notice the pendant of her necklace, a teardrop shape of multicoloured glass.

"That's pretty."

"Lilia gave it to me," she says, smiling in the way only those in love do when they talk about their partner. "She's gone for a swim, so I came to see the explorers again."

"Perfect," I reply, and she takes me to them. On the way, she tells me a little about the expedition.

"The caves were sealed off for years, and they've only just managed to re-open them. The Traders' Guild sponsored them, but it took a while to get the calculations right when they blew the entrance, so it wouldn't bring the hillside down on the city."

I wonder if that had anything to do with the rift, if that burst of energy somehow triggered it. I don't really know enough about them, but it adds to my concern that whatever came through, or will come through, the rift is what ends the Isenal.

"They've been a great success with the public," Rayna continues. "Even the explorers who cross oceans haven't gotten this much attention."

"Do you know how the caves were sealed in the first place?" I ask.

"Not really," she replies. "I think it was a rockfall, but that was generations ago. There are some records of the cave system that survive; they're supposed to go on for miles and miles. I can't wait to see what they find."

"You don't want to join them?"

"I'm… not so good at confined spaces," she says with an awkward smile. "I'm more of an outdoor person. And Lilia wouldn't want me vanishing underground for weeks at a time. But I do want to see what the explorers find."

"Hmm," I say. "I do too."

The finds are on display in the hall of the Traders' Guild, and I take advantage of Rayna holding so much of the explorers' attention with her questions to examine the artefacts closely. I don't recognise the objects specifically, but they clearly belong to a much more technologically advanced people, and they still contain power, probably a lot of power. My concern grows. Did they fall through the rift, get pulled through, or were they sent here deliberately? Keeping my scanner in my shoulder bag, I try and take some readings, as subtly as possible.

The results are not encouraging.

The Blaynir; I've not heard of them, but the information I find implies they're colonisers. They might not be unique in that, but it looks like these finds may well be forerunners to an invasion. The artefacts aren't weapons, as such, but one of them gives off alarming readings about how much power it contains. Probably enough to destroy a city. So what should I do? I could steal them fairly easily, taking them far away. The Corsair would probably go along with that, locking them up somewhere in his TARDIS or dropping them into a convenient black hole. But the rift would still be open.

What to do? What would the Doctor do? Would I get another stern lecture about fixed points, or would this be a time where he makes an exception? He's part of Rhyolae's past, the Isenal pantheon, the creation of this city. Would that make him more likely to try and save it, or would he go very serious and dark and walk away, letting it play out?

And then of course, there's the age-old time traveller conundrum; what if me being here is what causes history to happen the way it did? What if my choice here decides history? I'm not innocent of interfering, but recently, I've tried to avoid crossing timelines too much. If nothing else, remembering two timelines - before I interfered and after - is getting to be too much effort. And then there's the Corsair. Is he being truthful when he says he doesn't care about consequences, that he could let this planet's whole history rewrite itself, whatever the aftermath?

Maybe I'm getting old. Escapades and heists, those are more my kind of thing. Not this. Not trying to decide the fate of a city, a people, a planet.

_'How do you do this, my love? Take on this responsibility, so many times. All those decisions you make.'_

After the Time War, I suppose it mattered less. None of the consequences would ever match the decision he made on Gallifrey.

So…

Again, I pull myself together. Perhaps if I stop worrying about the future, behave more like my normal self, it'll sort itself out. The timelines have already been affected by the appearance of the rift, what's two time travellers on top of that?

A sudden burst of noise from outside breaks my train of thought, as Rayna comes back over.

"That's the procession. Will you come and watch? I promised Lilia I'd meet her in the square."

"You go on," I reply. "Maybe I'll see you both later?"

She smiles and goes out to find her wife. I sigh a little - young love! - and then I put my findings together on my scanner and I leave the artefacts behind.

The orange sun is high in the lilac sky when I head outside, only then realising how long I spent studying the alien artefacts. The festival procession that Rayna mentioned, the same one that Amalinda recommended, is passing by, and I let myself get caught up in it, all music and laughter and celebration. It snakes through the city, ending in the Confluence, at the foot of the Elevation Temple, from the top of which the fortune tellers will make their predictions.

It's crowded; apparently this is a major event in their calendar. The Corsair said, why go to a fortune teller when you can travel in time? But maybe hearing what they think the future will bring will help me decide what to do.

I move to the edge of the crowd, finding a little café set up in the shade of the trees that line this section of the Confluence. Usually this wouldn't be allowed - the Confluence is more of a ritual space - but right now it's busy, selling their version of coffee as well as cold drinks, and for the second time in as many days, I find myself in a queue. Well, that must be a sign; I'm becoming sensible. The horror!

I get my drink, and that's when I see the Corsair again. He's with Amalinda, and they have their arms around each other's waist, she leaning her head on his shoulder as they watch the soothsayers take to the stage. I wonder if they spent the night together, and if she's the reason he wants to save this city.

I sigh, missing the Doctor all the more. The time I have with my husband is always precious, and I learned a long time ago to hold back my resentment that I don't get more time with him, to value my independence and my liberty, when I have it. I accepted that I can lay no real claim to him, but I never learned how not to miss him.

The predictions begin, vague and non-specific to begin with, concerning the coming winter season, when the spring will come and so on. Then they talk about the ruling dynasty, make general statements about how it will rule with no end, and a shiver goes down my spine.

An elderly man is speaking; he's dressed in orange robes, arms raised to the sky and it feels like a cloud passing in front of the sun.

"There will be no end to anything," he pronounces. "The city will be eternal, and we the Isenal will never see an end to our time."

Am I reading into this too much? Because to me, that sounds too accurate. Not a hopeful 'the sun will never set on our empire' type of proclamation, but a glimpse into what's about to happen. I don't know if Rhyolae has psychics, but the rift is in time as well as space, so perhaps he's connecting to the future opening up before them.

I make up my mind.

Whatever happens, the rift must close. If doing that is what ends the Isenal, then so be it. If it doesn't, and we change the future, then we'll deal with that too. Or I'll try to. Whether the Corsair will, I still can't tell. But I need his help.

Perhaps sensing this, he turns his head and finds me in the crowd. His expression has already turned semi-serious, and I hope he's thinking along the same lines as me. I leave the Confluence, away from the crowds, and he catches up with me, Amalinda still with him.

"Have you told her?" I say to him and a flash of anger crosses his face.

"Told me what?" she says, turning her attention to me.

"She could help us," I say to the Corsair. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

"Have you changed yours?" he snaps back.

"Told me what?" Amalinda repeats, her tone a demand now.

I lead them both further from the crowd.

"We're time travellers," I tell her. "We came here from two thousand years in the future because we think something is going to happen to destroy the city, very soon."

She stares at me, unsure what to make of my outrageous declaration.

"And not just time travellers," I continue. "He and I come from different planets, out there among the stars."

She turns to the Corsair, who no longer looks angry, merely resigned. It doesn't sit well on him.

"You're… an alien from the future?" she says, but before he can reply, she continues; "From far away, you said. But I find I can believe it of you."

I smile.

"Oh, I like this one."

Amalinda is still working through everything I said.

"Something is going to destroy the city? Are they also from the stars?"

"Possibly."

I explain the rift, and the artefacts that came through it, showing the Corsair the readings on my scanner.

"The Blaynir… can't say I know them."

He takes a gadget of his own from his pocket, uses it to make an adjustment to the scanner, which beeps a lot in protest, then projects something into the air between us.

"What did you do?" I ask, suspicious.

"Connected it to the databanks on my ship," he replies. "This is what she knows about this lot."

The image clears and any protests I had about him hijacking my scanner vanish.

The Blaynir are an insectoid race, which at least means there aren't any of them here already, come through the rift. Unless they have perception filters, I suppose. I'll have to look out for that. And, as the information on my scanner suggested, they're known to invade planets and colonise them, if not worse. When they start an invasion, they don't stop until they've taken over everything, no matter what. Attempts to prevent them are rarely successful, and they aren't interested in negotiation. If the Doctor was here, maybe he would still try and find another way, but he isn't, so a battle seems inevitable.

Amalinda is surprisingly accepting of all this, but I can see that the picture of the Blaynir frightens her.

"Do you know how to fight them?" she asks. "Should we raise the armies?"

"Hopefully that won't be necessary," the Corsair tells her gently. "We should be able to stop them coming through."

"Where are they coming from?" I ask. "Their planet, I mean. Could they get here by ship if we close the rift?"

He searches some more.

"Not easily. It's a very long way, and Rhyolae isn't developed enough for that much effort. Not now, anyway, and the rift seems to only connect to this period in time."

"Rhyolae?" Amalinda asks, confused.

"The name of your world," the Corsair explains. "What do you call it?"

"I… I don't think we do," she replies, struggling to keep up. "This city is Laniyah. It's part of the Isenal nation, on the land of Itera. There are other nations close by, other countries, islands… I don't think we've named the whole world yet. I only realised there were truly other worlds as you spoke to me of them."

I have no idea when Rhyolae became the accepted name for the planet, but then again, I don't know when 'Earth' became a consensus, translated or otherwise, for my parents' home planet. Perspective is a wonderful thing, and travelling certainly gives you plenty of that.

"You said you might be able to tether the other end of the rift to something harmless," I remind the Corsair. "Is that possible? Stop it connecting to the Blaynir world again?"

"I can try," he says. "But it's not something I've done before. Maybe… I need to take a look at these artefacts that came through. Might be able to use them." He turns to Amalinda. "What were you telling me about that shipment of precious stones that were brought in recently?"

My ears prick up.

"Precious stones? Planning a heist?"

He ignores this.

"One of the island nations found a trove of new stones, ones no-one's ever seen before," Amalinda says. "They arrived a little while ago, and their uses are being considered now."

"Not just pretty sparkly things, then," I reply. "You're thinking possible power sources?" This is to the Corsair.

"Wouldn't be the first time I went to some trouble for sparkly things."

The swagger is back in his demeanour, possibly to try and reassure Amalinda, who is coping remarkably well with all these revelations, but is nonetheless clearly frightened. Perhaps I shouldn't have opened with 'this city is going to be destroyed.' Or he might just be happy at getting the chance to steal something valuable.

We put together a plan, of sorts. Evacuating might work, but it's unlikely anyone would believe us if we told them, until it's too late. There's always the TARDIS. Amalinda suggests asking the Temple guardians to raise an army of Scyava to protect the city, but as neither myself nor the Corsair know what those are, we've no idea if it would help or not.

So while the Corsair goes to see what he can make of the Blaynir artefacts, Amalinda takes me to 'inspect' the shipment of stones, to see whether any will be helpful. I'm sure she'd rather stay with the Corsair, but it'll be quicker if she guides me, and I've already done what I can with the artefacts. The festival is still continuing around us, and it's a shame to miss any of a party, but I had a lovely time yesterday and that will have to do.

Amalinda and I chat as we walk. It's clear she's very taken with the Corsair, and it's nice that she isn't the sort to be threatened by another person being around someone they're interested in.

"You're really from another world?" she says.

"Yes. And I've lived on many different worlds, visited even more."

"Is that common in the future? To travel like that?"

"Yes, but probably not as much as I do. I've not known the Corsair long, but I imagine he travels even more than I do."

"I've lived in this city my whole life," she replies. "I go off to explore beyond the reaches when I can, particularly the jungles, but it isn't easy. Real explorers have a lot more resources than I do. Though I meet a lot of people from tiny villages who see this city as something very grand and exotic; they probably think my life is more exciting than it is. It doesn't do to spend your life wishing for something else when what you have isn't bad."

I don't travel with companions the way the Doctor does, and I don't think the Corsair does either, but talking to Amalinda, I can see the appeal. Find someone who wants adventure, take them out of their little world and show them the wider universe, sharing their delight in discovering what's out there. Perhaps, when this is over, the Corsair will take her with him.

Or maybe I will.

Knowing that whoever's taken ownership of the stones is unlikely to just let a total stranger in to examine them, and not being in the mood to concoct some elaborate cover story, I let Amalinda distract the guard at the front door while I climb in through the back window. After years of pulling off complicated heists against high-tech bank vaults and places alarmed to the teeth, this is nothing, actually a nice change.

I rifle through the boxes. A few had been sealed closed during shipping, but they've been opened for examination since, which means I won't be detected unless caught in the act. Most are pretty but useless, although there are a few diamond-like stones, which can often be used as power sources. My scanner identifies their molecular structure, and I pick out ones that I think we could use in place of, or alongside, explosives to close the rift. Hopefully the Corsair's TARDIS is well set up - he seems the type to improvise, but I know he's done some work for the Time Lords, so it's unlikely he would travel light.

Hurriedly, I conceal the stones in a hidden pocket of my bag - and a few of the pretty-but-useless ones inside my dress, because old habits die hard - and scramble back out the window, then Amalinda and I go to join the Corsair.

The group of explorers aren't keen on us taking such a close interest in their finds, but they are forced to admit that they have no idea what the objects are, so eventually they agree to let us keep on examining them.

The Corsair has wasted no time in dismantling one piece, using the equipment he fetched from his ship. No sonic screwdriver, but he has some handy gadgets.

"That's some some sort of pulse emitter," he says, nodding at another artefact. "A powerful one, too. This thing here is a bit of a mystery but it looks like its capable of storing huge amounts of energy, so if I can get it to overload, it'll give off a hell of a bang. Give me the stones you found?"

I hand over the diamonds, and he holds them up to the light.

"These are extraordinary. Rough worked, but exceptional quality. It should be easy enough to adapt whatever this gadget is to draw power from these, but what I still haven't figured out is how to direct it only at the rift, without damaging the city."

"What if it were used inside the rift?" I ask, and he shrugs.

"There's no way of knowing for sure whether that would work."

"And what about if it were used from the other side of the rift? When it connects to the Blaynir's world again, stop them coming through?"

He stares at me.

"Possibly. There'd still be a backlash… but the real problem is what'd be waiting for us there. From what I found out about the Blaynir, it's likely they're constructing an invasion force."

"Then time is of the essence, yes? So, while you're working on that idea, why don't I go and see what weapons I can gather from your ship, just in case there is an invasion force on the way?" I ask. "Anything that might help the Isenal."

He pauses, thinking this all through.

"If you like. I'll give you the key."

I hold out my hand, but he doesn't give me a physical key, like my TARDIS uses. Instead, he presses the fingertips of one hand to the side of my face, and to my surprise, a series of words and images pop into my brain.

A passcode, which has to be thought on approach to be granted entry. I've heard of them, but never expected that.

"Got it?" he asks. "I expect we'll still be here when you get back."

He starts work, asking Amalinda to assist him, and I go off on my errand.


	4. Chapter 4

I could spend a lifetime, several lifetimes, exploring inside a TARDIS, especially this one.

After a while, the interiors transform from 'below deck' into more regular TARDIS corridors. I expected there to be rooms filled with treasure, or plunder and while there's certainly a bewildering array of objects accumulated, most of it looks like junk, rather than riches. Although who am I to judge? I often travel light, but I've collected a number of things that would have no value to others. Like my thought about the drinking glass from the tavern; worth little here and now, but almost priceless to an archaeologist in the future.

There's no sign of a cat or a parrot, either, to my mild disappointment. A cat wandering the corridors of a TARDIS would be oddly appropriate.

The temptation to 'borrow' this TARDIS and take her on a trip around the universe is strong - I imagine she'd be just as happy to be my partner-in-crime as the Doctor's TARDIS - but now isn't the time. I open my mind as I wander, asking the TARDIS to connect to me a little and guide me to the Corsair's arsenal. Using a thought passcode means I already connected with her, more than just the unconscious telepathic circuits, and I make my intent clear. I'm not sure it's working until I round a corner and there's an open door, behind which is an assortment of weaponry. Explosives, yes, and there is an energy shield next to the explosives, which I pick up too, thinking maybe it could work to help direct a blast, or protect whoever sets off an explosion.

The Corsair has accumulated a ridiculous number of swords and daggers, of all shapes and sizes. At first, I ignore them, then I go back and tuck a small throwing knife into the holster belt I put on. You never know.

I never used to be without a gun, despite many arguments with the Doctor about it. I knew they'd be needed. Even if he didn't like to get his hands dirty, I never minded that. Fighting my way out of tight spot instead of thinking always seemed more fun, but now it very much depends on who, or what, I'm fighting.

I look over the collection of energy weapons. There're actually fewer guns than I expected, so presumably the Corsair prefers his sword fighting to gun battles. Although if there is a full-scale invasion, neither handguns nor swords will make a huge difference; we'd need a fleet of battleships to defeat an army of Blaynir. I think of Lilia, from the couple I met at the observatory, who's part of the Isenal army. I should find her again, see if I can convince her to help in some way, to rally the troops if needed.

Though the rift being inside a cave means that at least they can't all come through at once. I bring back whatever I can fit onto a couple of holsters, for myself, the Corsair and anyone willing to fight alongside us. I don't know if Amalinda plans to stay at his side, but I want her to be able to defend herself, if she needs to.

I wonder if we should try and warn people what might be coming. If I could convince the soothsayer, get him to warn of what may be coming, then the people would believe it. Even if the city falls, people might be able to get out, and the Isenal civilisation could survive. That wouldn't change the whole world, would it?

But as I make my way back to my friends, I realise it's too late for that. We don't know when the rift first opened, or how long it's been connecting to the Blaynir homeworld. Its instability meant they couldn't come through right away, had to wait for it to connect again. The Corsair and I felt it do that when we were in the cave, but it wasn't yet stable. From the sounds I can hear issuing from the direction of the cave, it's stable now.

A series of dull thumps, like muffled explosions, set off a tremor beneath my feet and I realise that my thought of 'they can't all come through at once' may have been a little optimistic.

I run.

Outside the Traders' Guildhall, I nearly crash into the Corsair. He looks to be heading for the cave, his new Isenal sword in hand.

"I know you're a confident man, but is that really going to be much use against an invading army?" I ask, trying not to gasp for breath.

I hand him the other holster as Amalinda comes out behind him, carrying the alien artefacts.

"Time for a fight!" he says, almost cheerfully. "Let's see what these Blaynir are made of, yes?"

I offer her a gun. She hesitates, then takes it. I show her how to operate it as we hurry toward the caves. People are fleeing in the opposite direction, panic breaking out across the city even though they don't know what's happening. The sound of explosions, and the tremor are enough - I remember there's a faultline running through this continent, through the city almost.

But there are some Isenal running in the same direction as we are; nice to know we're not the only people in the city foolish enough to run at an explosion. The Temple guards are at the forefront; they carry swords too, as well as types of spears, crossbows and I spot some flintlock pistols too. The Isenal may not yet know it's an invasion, but they're not the type to give up without a fight.

I try not to think too much about what's likely to happen next. If this is the day the city falls… how much difference can we make? I don't know how I feel, but I'm not backing down from this fight at least. I'm defending this city.

We approach where the cave mouth was, now blasted wide open, and spilling out is an army of Blaynir, like a swarm. They stand about six to seven feet tall, roughly humanoid in shape, their limbs covered with a hard, shiny shell-like material, blue/green in colour, antennae on top of their helmet-like heads. Some stand on two legs, others on four, and some are now spreading wings and taking to the sky. It's only when we get close that they start to fire their weapons.

The Corsair gestures at me to go to the left, while he goes right, Amalinda alongside him, and we return fire, trying to stop the Blaynir from spreading further out. The rest of the Isenal defenders follow suit, throttling the swarm so that it's a little easier to shoot back at the attackers, keeping them away from the rest of the city.

It's hard to read the reactions of a race that don't have human-like faces, but their brief hesitation in the face of returned fire makes them seem surprised. What did they know about Rhyolae before coming here? The Corsair thought that one of the artefacts may have been designed to send information back through the rift, once it stabilised again, so maybe they thought it was a simple planet, easy pickings.

They came out attacking, didn't give the people here a chance, so I won't give the Blaynir a chance either. I draw a second gun, firing two handed, trying to cut down those on the wing so that the Isenal can focus on those on the ground.

I glance over and see that Amalinda has followed my lead, taking another gun from the Corsair's holster belt just before he lunges at an attacking Blaynir with his sword, grinning like an idiot. Fortunately, these weapons have no recoil, so Amalinda picks up marksmanship very quickly.

More defenders are appearing now, and I see Lilia among them, still dressed for the festival. Rayna, in her lilac dress, is running alongside the troops, unwilling to leave her wife's side and I feel a sudden flare of determination to defend the city and its people.

I take the rest of the guns on my holster and throw them to the Isenal troops, who don't question who I am, or where these strange weapons came from, not when they're being attacked by alien insectoids. I give one to Rayna, telling her to stay close to Amalinda so they can look out for each other. They're not the only civilians, but there isn't time to organise any better.

Some of the Blaynir have gotten past, and they're swooping down on the city, dropping small explosives and picking off vulnerable citizens, and I feel my anger rising. When I'm with the Doctor, I can trust him to find a solution, to save people, and when I'm not with him, I'm not usually throwing myself into wars. Though I was raised to be a killer, I fought the Silence who did that to me, (though my memories of that are understandably a bit confused). I've faced Weeping Angels, killer robots, all manner of monsters, not to mention numerous people and aliens with evil plans and I don't regret any of that.

But this feels personal. I got involved, and I shouldn't have. I know this. Curiosity about the end of a civilisation was never going to end well. I should stick to heists and scam jobs, fun rather than battles.

Well, too late now…

The Isenal are being surprisingly successful, aiming their spears and crossbow bolts at joints in the insectoid 'armour' and bringing them down. The Corsair and his fellow sword fighters are having some success with a similar tactic, forcing the Blaynir back as more of them fall. But there are heavy losses on our side too, as to be expected when you go up against laser fire and energy weapons without suitable defences.

This calls for new tactics, and I remember what else I brought back from the Corsair's TARDIS. Holstering one gun, I pull a small explosive device from my bag and throw it into the air. When it reaches the same height as the flying Blaynir, I shoot the device, setting off a shockwave in the sky, bringing down the rest of those on the wing in one swoop, and allowing us to focus our fire on the ground.

A loud rumbling noise from behind us draws my attention, and glancing over my shoulder, I see that the sailors from the docks are pushing the mounted cannons used to defend the bay toward the swarm. There's a loud shout of 'fire!' and we all duck as a series of cannonballs come hurtling at our attackers. The Blaynir have no idea what's coming, and the projectiles hit enough, dazing and confusing the rest, that we can put them all down.

I rejoin the Corsair. Amalinda is pale and shaking, but she looks determined. I'm glad I could give her some warning that an attack might be coming; she had time to prepare.

Rayna looks worse. She stares at me for a moment, wondering who I am and what I have to do with what's happening. But then she sees Lilia, still standing but wounded, and she can't hold back from running to her wife, helping her find cover while they deal with her injuries. The rest of the defenders have no clue what's attacking them either, but they're adapting remarkably well.

"Of course, that was just the first wave," the Corsair says.

I lean over, my hands on my knees, catching my breath after the battle.

"Oh, you just had to say it, didn't you?"

He grins.

"I'm just warming up."

But Amalinda doesn't smile.

"This is what destroys the city? These… things? They kill us all?"

His grin fades.

"I don't know what's going to happen. I'm sorry."

She makes a visible effort to swallow her fear, and I'm filled with admiration for her. I barely know her, but she's facing the oncoming horrors so bravely for someone who didn't even know alien worlds existed a day ago.

The troops are regrouping, sending runners out to gather more weapons and ammunition.

"Should we fetch more guns from the TARDIS?" I suggest. "The locals are more adaptable than I expected."

"We could," he says. "But it won't be enough. It's probably safe to assume these Blaynir are in communication with the rest of them, through the rift. It's still stable, so there'll be more coming through, very soon."

"That was an advance party?" Amalinda asks.

"I'm afraid so. We need to think bigger."

"More explosives?" I ask. "What about the pulse emitter and that energy source? Did you make any progress with using the diamonds?"

"Yes, but I can't find a way to direct the pulse. It still goes in all directions."

"What would it do?" Amalinda asks. "This… pulse. What does that mean?"

"It's a type of energy, like an explosion. It's meant to damage or destroy organic life, and it doesn't differentiate. I think it was sent through as a sort of last resort if the invasion went badly. They could retreat, leaving behind just one of the Blaynir to set it off and kill everyone here. Then they could return when the energy had dissipated and use this city as a foothold to invade the rest of the planet."

We fall silent.

"That's… very specific," I say, eventually.

"I've come across tactics like this before," the Corsair replies. "Different attackers, and I wasn't on the ground like this, but I'm pretty sure that's their plan."

"So we can't use the pulse to defend the city without destroying it," I reply. "And it won't close the rift?"

"No. Wrong kind of energy; the pulse is designed to destroy living organic matter. And if we threw it into the rift, it might stop the Blaynir but there wouldn't be anything to stop the energy coming through and wiping everyone here still."

He takes out the energy source from Amalinda's bag, the precious stones wired into it.

"I think this might be enough to close the rift, but it'll still take out most of the city. However, it's looking like our best chance."

I pull out the shield I brought from his TARDIS.

"Take one of the stones off that energy source so I can put it with this. It'll lessen the explosion, but give the shield a boost; it could protect the city enough while we take out the rift. And I have other explosives too."

He thinks this over as he loosens one of the diamonds, handing it over so I can wire it to the shield's power pack.

"Could work. Problem is, we're blowing up a space/time rift. The shielding would protect from the physical explosion, but there'd still be temporal fallout. I might be able to use the TARDIS to contain it, but that means someone else will have to set off the detonation."

I smile.

"No problem. I haven't blown anything significant up for a while."

I tap my vortex manipulator.

"And I stand the best chance of side-stepping the blast, so to speak."

The Corsair nods.

"What if the next wave of those creatures start coming through before you get there?" Amalinda asks, wide-eyed.

"I'll think of something. And look, the troops are rallying."

I point at the Isenal defenders as re-enforcements arrive, soldiers from the barracks and civilians alike, carrying fresh weapons, and and I can see more sailors coming down from the docks to join the fight, bringing cannon shot.

I scan the crowd. Rayna and Lilia are arguing; no doubt the soldier wants her wife to get to safety, but Rayna is refusing, wanting to stay by her side. There isn't time to worry about them anymore. I just have to hope they'll be all right.

"It'll have to be close to the rift when it goes off," the Corsair says. "Ideally, right next to it, or inside it."

"I'll do my best."

"This is still going to be tricky." He turns to Amalinda. "I could use an extra pair of hands on my ship, if you want to help me out?"

"I - I don't know how to sail."

"I'll explain as we go."

I finish wiring the shield, attaching it to my holster belt and then put the makeshift bomb into my bag.

"Best say our goodbyes now," I say to them both. As I step in to give Amalinda a hug, I murmur in her ear.

"If this doesn't work out, make sure he gets out and go with him. Someone from this city should survive, to make sure it's remembered."

She steps back, staring at me, but I don't linger.

"Safe journeys, Corsair. Our paths may cross again, who knows?"

"And to you, Professor Song. Best of luck."

He kisses my cheek, then we go our ways.

But, as happens far too often, even for a time traveller, there isn't enough time. As I head toward the rift, the second wave begins, and it comes fast and hard. I thought the first wave was a swarm, but that was nothing compared to what comes now.

Exploding through the rift, the winged Blaynir stream up into the sky as the foot soldiers pour out, and all of them come out fighting. I suppose they learned what happened to their forerunners, and are taking no chances now. I only hope none of them are carrying anything like the artefacts they sent through, or all our defence attempts will prove pointless.

I run toward the rift, skirting around the edge of where the previous battle took place and glancing back, I see the Corsair head for his TARDIS, pulling Amalinda along with him. I have to trust that he'll be able to deal with the temporal fallout from closing the rift, if I'm successful.

I hear the Isenal cannons roar, and the second battle begins.

Trying to keep out of sight as much as I can, I approach the cave mouth from the side, waiting for the procession of Blaynir to stop, or at least slow, so that I can push through the rift, but they don't. They just keep coming and coming, a never-ending stream of invading troops. Even if I close the rift, this is not looking good for Laniyah, nor the whole continent of Itera.

Eventually, there's a gap as the second wave fills the sky, but they stop coming through the rift. There'll be more following, I know there will, and I have to act fast. I repeat my trick of throwing an explosive into the air, then shooting it, the shockwave taking out some of the flying attackers, then I run into what's left of the cave. The Blaynir widened the cave entrance, and they must have done the same inside, so I at least have a clear run this time, not needing to crawl or to squeeze through any tight spaces like we did before.

I can feel the rift as I get closer; having creatures pass through it has changed its energy, like it's getting stronger, more disruptive. Is that my imagination? I don't have time to worry about that. I detach the shield from my holster belt with one hand, taking out a small explosive with the other.

I need to be fast with this.

The pool beneath the rift has drained away, through a large crack in the ground that's opened below the rippling cut in the air, in the fabric of space/time itself, so at least I don't have to wade through it. I set down the shield, standing between it and the rift as it activates. The shield springs to life, light filling the cavern as it creates a barrier between the rift and the city. I throw the explosive into the rift, wait a moment for it to detonate and clear, then take out the energy-source-turned-explosive and I step through the rift.

There isn't time to look around at what's on the other side, so I only catch a glimpse of the Blaynir homeworld and the gathering forces preparing to make the next assault on Laniyah. But even after I blew up the front few rows of waiting soldiers, there's an awful lot of them.

"Oh, hello. Pardon me dropping in unannounced."

One particularly on-the-ball insectoid recovers from the shock of the blast enough to step forward to shoot me, but I still have one hand free and I pull the knife from my holster belt and hurl it. It catches the Blaynir in the neck, one of the exposed joints, and it falls, giving me just enough time to prime the energy source to explode and throw it toward them.

"This invasion is over."

Then I leap back through the rift, activating my vortex manipulator and I vanish.

The shielding should protect the city, but it won't be enough to protect me, standing at the epicentre, so I'd already programmed in a short hop in advance. I expect to skip forward just enough to avoid getting caught in the blast, that I'll find myself landing outside the cave mouth, as the dust settles from the explosion (both real and metaphorical), and I can go back to defending the Isenal from the Blaynir troops that made it through the rift.

But it's very quiet.

Did something go wrong? The Corsair said there might be temporal fallout; did I skip too far forward? I try to get a fix on my exact time location, but all of my tech is behaving strangely, so I head away from the rubble that was once a system of caves, now collapsed in on themselves, to see what's going on.

Outside there is… nothing.

No, not nothing. The city still stands, but it's a dead city, empty and utterly silent. Not even any birds or animals. The Blaynir couldn't have done this. Even if they'd killed all the Isenal, they'd have been trapped here when the rift closed and they'd be here still. And there are no bodies anywhere, not even those who'd already fallen in battle when I went through the rift.

No, for the city to have survived but none of its people… it must have been the pulse.

I wander, dejected. The city fell, as it was always going to. How far did the pulse reach? But I know the answer. It went far enough to end the Isenal civilisation, all of it.

Mystery solved. It wasn't technically my doing, but I was involved. If the Corsair and I had never come here, it would have played out differently, but not necessarily any better. The Blaynir would have swarmed across the planet, conquering it and killing so many more people than those who died here in Laniyah, and the rest of the Isenal settlements.

So that's that. Sacrifice a city to save a world. End a thriving, beautiful civilisation so that the rest of the planet can live, and one day preserve what's left of this city so archaeologists like me can come and study it, wondering about the mysteries of the past.

I reach the Confluence, and see that while the Temple still stands, the other roofs have fallen, leaving just the columns, something I'd previously assumed had happened over time. The battle must have caused more damage than I'd expected.

I wonder if the Corsair got away, if Amalinda went with him. But who used the pulse? Did the Blaynir bring another with them, using it once it became clear they were trapped and that the Isenal were not as easy a conquest as they thought? The Corsair's TARDIS wouldn't have been destroyed when the pulse activated, though it has organic parts that might have been damaged.

I head for the docks anyway to see if I can find a clue as to what happened.

It's eerie, walking through a completely dead and empty city. I'd have thought the plant life would've returned by now at least, but there's nothing, not even the carnivorous Venandi blooms that encroach on the ruins in the future. The pulse didn't just kill anything organic, it completely obliterated all living creatures, leaving nothing behind, a _Mary Celeste_ of a city.

Eventually, my scanner and my vortex manipulator settle down enough to give me a reading; I came back through the rift in the same time period I left, but the 'short hop' of a few minutes that I planned turned out to be nearly three years. I test the manipulator, and it seems to be working fine, so it must have been temporal fallout that prevented me returning any earlier, pushed me further forward in time as the rift blew up and it doesn't look like it will let me go back either.

The fallout seems to have kept anyone else from coming here from elsewhere on the planet in the meantime too, like a barrier around the affected areas, sealing the city off. I wonder how long that will last; my vortex manipulator brought me to this time, but I was already here physically, caught up in the events, and of course I'm somewhat unique in terms of my relationship with space/time.

The rift is long gone now, not even a detectable trace of energy left, but the effects of the pulse seem to be just as long term, unless it's a combination of both. The Keepers don't begin to preserve the city for another 500 years; could the aftermath really last that long?

I reach the docks; the ships are still moored there, although the Corsair's TARDIS has gone. Some of the ships are starting to rot away; the wood survived the pulse because it's no longer living matter, but organic decay looks to have been accelerated by fallout from the rift. That would explain a lot - the fallout both speeds up the city's decay and keeps everyone out, preventing them from mitigating the damage until it's too late.

I look around, and then I see some graffiti carved into a stone pillar by the docks; my name in circular Gallifreyan.

Underneath is a message from the Corsair, describing what I missed; once the rift closed, (and despite the shielding, it was still a pretty big bang), the Blaynir went into Berserker mode, spreading out across the city killing people any way they could. The defenders did the best they could, but it was clear they were out-gunned and that this massacre was unstoppable. Then the Blaynir weapons began to trigger an earthquake.

_"I was so caught up in trying to limit the fallout from the rift, I didn't see her leave the ship,"_ he says. _"She couldn't stand to see the violence being inflicted on her people, and I'd told her that there was a way to end it."_

She used the pulse. Amalinda. Saved her people from further suffering by bringing a quick, clean death. She knew the city was going to fall because we'd told her that it would happen. _I'd_ told her it would happen. She took it on herself to decide how it happened, an Isenal ending the civilisation, rather than letting it be ended by a brutal outside force, especially if that force would've carried on killing far beyond the city, given the chance. I'd hoped that she might have been the one to survive, but no.

After the message, the Corsair has written:

_"See you around, Professor Song."_

He must have either crossed his own timeline to write this. Or maybe he travelled a little ahead in time to miss the pulse, like I did to survive the explosion. The TARDIS would already have been active, it wouldn't have been difficult to just skip ahead a little. Maybe I only just missed him.

I wonder how this makes him feel. I still don't know him, not really. Is all the swashbuckling, devil-may-care an act, or how he really is? Would he ever have taken Amalinda travelling with him, or is that not him? Is he sad that she died, that the city died, or will he just shrug it off and go look for trouble elsewhere?

Who knows? Maybe we'll meet again, maybe not. The person I really want to see is the one I wanted to see all along, but the Doctor never showed, so maybe I should leave him a message like this one. No, not like this one. I could tell the universe how the Isenal ended, or make it so it was never a mystery to begin with, but I won't.

I use my last remaining explosive to destroy the Corsair's message, thousands of tiny stone shards flung into the air, then sinking to the depths of the sea.

I source a large, flat slab from the stone mason's shop, set it into the ground in the Confluence, near to the altar with my original message, and I start carving.

_"Somehow, my love, we missed each other,"_ I write, and then I proceed to tell him exactly what he missed. Well, I doubt anyone else will be able to translate it, and I didn't use his name, so it'll just be another mystery for the archaeologists to puzzle over. I keep the details of what I was doing vague, just that I came here to look around and get some answers, but then I add a little post-script:

_"I ran into a friend of yours, and they told me I'm not enough of a bad influence on you."_

This is how I want to remember this trip. I had fun here, before it all went bad. I met some lovely people, saw the sights and enjoyed the party.

So I switch to the Isenal ancient pictogram language to write the rest of the inscription, even though it hasn't been used here for centuries. I describe the fertility/end of season festival, and I leave a cheeky little reminder of the Corsair's presence too, carving a pirate's ship in the middle of a description of people coming from far and wide to enjoy the celebrations.

There. No specific sign that I was here, but I've left my mark. And though it might be satisfying to come back to the university with a full account of how the Isenal civilisation ended, I'll leave it a mystery, as it should be. It was never going to be a happy story, but I don't think any of the Isenal would want that to be remembered.

Another thought occurs to me. How should they be remembered? The answer is, they should be remembered for who they were. Ordinary, and extraordinary people.

I lose track of how long it takes me to gather together the contents of this hoard, but finally I'm satisfied. Not the finest artefacts, belonging to the wealthiest people, not gold and jewels, (even though I know where there's a load of precious stones, left over from my earlier raid), but the things you'd find everywhere. A time capsule, rather than a treasure trove.

I put in a dress and a pair of shoes from the shop I bought mine, not yet ravaged by time and decay. A sword like the one the Corsair collected, a wine jug and set of drinking glasses from the tavern Amalinda worked at, a handful of small statues of Isenal deities, specially made for the festival. Finding a jewellery shop which has necklaces like Rayna's, multicoloured glass fused together, I add one into the collection, putting another around my neck, as a personal reminder.

I box the hoard up, sealing it as best I can to shield it from the deterioration I know will destroy the rest of the city, so that virtually nothing survives of the Isenal culture by the time I came from. In doing this, I'm leaving a tiny representation of its people, to be re-discovered one day. And if no-one's found it by the time I get back to the future, I'll find a way to nudge someone to excavate it, then I can add it to my lectures.

Maybe I really will write a book.

* * *

Epilogue:

I'm in my office at the University when the parcel is delivered to my door. The courier left it at the reception office, and one of the research students brings it to me.

I take in the slightly tattered parcel that looks like it's come a long way.

"It's not ticking, is it?"

The student looks alarmed.

"I don't - what?"

"Relax. If it was going to explode, security scans would have picked up on it before now. Probably."

I take the parcel and begin to unwrap it. The address label simply says 'Professor Song, Luna University' but it made its way to me anyway.

Inside the box, well protected, is a drinking glass, preserved but clearly old and fragile. I recognise it immediately, but the last time I saw it, it was on display in the museum at the Isenal ruins. It's from the hoard I buried, that was indeed found and excavated hundreds of years later, once the Keepers started to build up their protection of the ruined city.

The student watches with interest. Thankfully, there's nothing specific about the glass to immediately mark it as Isenal unless you're an expert, otherwise I'm going to get arrested again; being in possession of Isenal artefacts is wildly illegal, none are allowed to leave the planet. I kept the dress, shoes and necklace I brought back, but they look too new to arouse any suspicion; I tell anyone who asks that they're replicas.

The pretty stones I liberated came in handy on a number of occasions too, but that's another story.

So who's sent me this? I look inside the box, and tucked inside the packing material is a card, on which are just two words. A name, but not the one I was expecting.

"Conrad Byron," I read aloud. And then I laugh.

As an alias, it's rather obvious once you've met the man who inspired Lord Byron to create the character of Conrad the corsair, I suppose, and a little less common than 'John Smith'.

"A friend of yours?" the student asks.

"Of a kind."

I shoo the student away and turn the card over again. More lettering appears, reacting to my touch.

_'I know you said no souvenirs, but I 'borrowed' this from the museum. You can send it back to them if you want, or keep it to remember the city by. Nicely done.'_

I wonder how he pulled that heist off. That might be a more fun adventure, 'borrowing' from the Keepers, though maybe a higher risk enterprise than I'm looking for right now. I did consider it. For all their high security, there aren't any suppression fields on Rhyolae, meaning I could nip in and out with the vortex manipulator easily enough - grab something, then hop back in time to before it was stolen, allowing you to just walk out with it, as it's clearly still in its case when you leave - but the Keeper's booby traps aren't limited to the ruins, and they're even more notorious than I am.

I decide to keep the glass for a while. The dress and shoes are packed away, but I have the necklace. I still might write that book on the Isenal, and if nothing else, the glass is a reminder not to get too involved again. I like to keep my adventures fun, if I can.

And if the Doctor ever gets around to returning my 'calls', then maybe things will go better the next time I have an adventure like that.

I package up the glass again, to protect it until I find a way to display it safely.

Maybe I need a new project, something exciting, an expedition that has nothing to do with archaeology. The vortex manipulator can take me virtually anywhere, anywhen.

So… where do I want to go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Anything you recognise, probably isn't mine.
> 
> Thank you for reading! All reviews gratefully received :)


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